


Melodic Nostalgia

by Momonoji



Category: Kamen Rider - All Media Types, Kamen Rider Saber
Genre: M/M, Touma is soft I guess, he also has no idea what a classical music is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momonoji/pseuds/Momonoji
Summary: Keys were slowly being played in the same beautiful melody as before. It was slower than earlier, though Touma was having trouble focusing. It was difficult, he could feel Daishinji breathing peacefully against his back. Not to mention, the soft brush of hair against his cheek as the swordsmith peered over the other’s shoulder.He smelled nice; Tetsuo smelled so nice, in a comforting way that reminds the novelist of warm bread in a bakery... Or fresh linens out of the dryer. Nostalgic, Touma can’t put his finger on it.Home, he smelled like home.
Relationships: Daishinji Tetsuo/Kamiyama Touma, Kamiyama Touma/Daishinji Tetsuo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Melodic Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I write this, uh hi, it’s not really good I cannot form proper brain thoughts to write and have it make sense. 
> 
> I just think Daishinji likes playing instruments I don’t know.

Touma was writing when we first heard it; the beautiful melody of some classical song he’s heard at some point in his life. Familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it. 

The northern base is quiet, Sophia was in her quarters, everyone else out doing something..anything to occupy them while they wait for the next tragedy. Setting the pen down, the novelist slides out of his chair following the sound. 

Through the hallway; down some stairs, around a corner. The melody grew louder each time he inches closer to the room in question. Then, he found it, the dark wooden door serving as a barrier between him and the mysterious musician. 

Pressing his ear against the door (just to make sure) Touma can’t help but twist the handle. After all, he has to solve this mystery..maybe whoever is doing it will allow him to sit in here. Soak up the music for writing inspiration. 

Though, once the door opens with a slow agonizing squeak; fingers slam stiffly against the ivory keys. Causing the music to come to an abrupt and awkward pause. Touma was left wide-eyed at the door frame, as a familiar shy face quickly turned to look away. 

The culprit was Tetsuo Daishinji, the novelist was fairly surprised with the outcome of this mystery. 

Has Tetsuo always played instruments? Is it something he likes doing other than bending and shaping hot metal into swords? 

Before he can open his mouth to speak, Tetsuo quickly slides off the leather bench he was sitting at. Awkwardly wiping his hands off on the pants of his worn overalls. It’s clear he’s embarrassed, maybe the only people who listened were from afar. 

“Hey hey! No, wait!” Touma quickly shuts the door behind him, letting himself into the room so he can make sure the swordsmith doesn’t run away. “That was cool! I didn’t know you could play Mr. Daishinji! What song was that?” 

Tetsuo’s face grows a shade darker if pink at the praise. The blush tickling the top of his ears, Touma thought it was cute. Especially since the shyness was from the genuine interest the novelist was giving the man. Touma tilts his head “Was it Beethoven?” 

“It was Chopin..” Tetsuo answers in a way where he almost sounds breathless. Scooting a bit further away from the bench, it’s almost as if he got far away enough from it, Touma would’ve forgotten all about the current situation. “What are you doing here?”

The novelist gives an awkward chuckle, raising his hand to rest against the nape of his neck. Thin fingers twirling into his baby hairs. “Well, Mei was at the store… Which meant I couldn’t get enough peace to write. So, I came here to the base instead.” He then moved closer to the piano, curiously gazing at the polished shine of the hardwood. It was impressive as if the expensive instrument was somehow preserved in time. 

Tetsuo must take really good care of it.

“Hey, Mr. Daishinji, do you think you could play that again?” The swordsmith quickly looks at Touma, then back at a nearby wall with an anxious bite of his lip. The novelist then smiles, raising his hands as if he was surrendering. “Or, if you’re not comfortable with that, could you at least teach me? After all, I’ll mess up a lot so I feel like it’d be more embarrassing for me than you.” 

Tetsuo takes a while to consider, so much so that Touma almost feels as if it’s some sort of lost cause. But, when the swordsmith brushes a bit of fallen hair out of his face then clears his throat. “Sit down..at the middle of the bench though, you can’t favor aside.”

Like an obedient puppy, Touma instantly sits, leather squeaking with his weight. Looking down excitedly at the beautiful keys. “So, is the song easy to learn? It didn’t seem like a lot of notes were being—“ tensing up, the novelist's words melted into a lump in his throat. A warm body was pressed against his, rough yet nimble hands resting atop of Touma’s. “—played…”

“You’re not going to learn right away,” Tetsuo mutters, so close Touma can feel the warm graze of his breath against his neck. “But we can try slowly, you just start like this.”

Keys were slowly being played in the same beautiful melody as before. It was slower than earlier, though Touma was having trouble focusing. It was difficult, he could feel Daishinji breathing peacefully against his back. Not to mention, the soft brush of hair against his cheek as the swordsmith peered over the other’s shoulder. 

He smelled nice; Tetsuo smelled so nice, in a comforting way that reminds the novelist of warm bread in a bakery... Or fresh linens out of the dryer. Nostalgic, Touma can’t put his finger on it. 

Home, he smelled like home.

Touma feels comfortable, closing his eyes and leaning up more against the comfort behind him. He doesn’t realize his finger accidentally glides over to the wrong key. Pressing it hard enough to suddenly ruin the melody they were making together. Eyes snapping back open, mouth going dry, Touma can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed he messed up so early on in the song.

“Sorry, sorry, I got a little lost there!”

But Tetsuo smiles, in a beautiful way the novelist can see out of the corner of his eye. Warm, welcoming, that nostalgic feeling is stronger than before. Touma’s hands slide off the keys, giving a playful groan as if he was trying to change the sweet atmosphere. After all, once Tetsuo notices, the swordsmith might be too embarrassed to continue. 

“Mr. Daishinji it’s too hard! Can we try something easier?” 

Tetsuo sighs, moving his hands away for a brief moment as he thinks. Flipping a few pages from the music chart he was looking at to guide the clueless novelist.

“Well… We could try something from Gymnopédie.”

Touma has a feeling he needs to brush up on his classical music history.


End file.
